There's a Couple of Things Get Lost
by ThatGuyRex
Summary: WICKED, showfic. A sister to 'There's a Kind of a, Sort of a Cost' and a prequel to 'No One Mourns the Wicked, but What About the Good? '. Follows Glinda from the end of the show through her journey into madness.
1. Chapter 1

  
  
AN: This story is Glinda's side of the prequel to my first Wicked fic, 'No One Mourns the Wicked - But What About the Good?' Look for its sister fic, "There's a Kind of a.. Sort of a Cost", detailing Elphaba's side of this story.  
  
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**"There's a couple of things get lost."**  
  
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_Smile. Don't think, don't remember. Just smile._  
  
Glinda is making a valiant effort to do just that as her bubble hangs serenely above the jubilant crowd. The excitement rises in heavy waves from the throng. Glinda feels each ripple physically, battering against her carefully manufactured grin. The bubble wavers slightly in the air, as if sensing the mood of its mistress. Glinda wishes that she could just let go, let the bubble float where it will. Away from Oz, away from this, away from the mess that she is left to clean up.  
  
_Stop it. That's thinking._  
  
But try as she might, Glinda cannot keep her thoughts at bay. Nothing can erase her memory of the Witch's final moments of life. All she has to do is close her eyes and she's back huddling in the drafty corner of the castle, listening helplessly to the final scream, that went on and on. It feels like ages ago, but it has only been a few hours.  
  
And now, the citizens of Oz are celebrating. It's like a hundred days of Lurlinemas and birthdays all rolled into one. The Wicked Witch is dead at last, now their children can sleep safely in their beds. Even though Elphie had never done anything the slightest bit deserving of such a name and such a reputation, Glinda thinks. To her, all is forgiven.. Shiz, Fiyero, everything. If only there was someone around to forgive her...  
  
For the next hour, Glinda carefully builds a wall inside herself, as she mingles with the party guests, her plastic smile gleaming brilliantly. She laughs at the jokes, speaks to wives, shakes hands with children. Plays the politics game. The Wizard is gone, Morrible imprisoned. In the course of one day, Glinda's life has gone from one of social climbing and make-believe importance to one of real position and responsibility. Glinda the Good, ready to help steer Oz from its shaky present into a glorious future. Stupid idea, really. Whatever had made her say it?  
  
As time passes, the party begins to gather steam and the guests begin to get more and more inebriated. When the group gathered around Glinda begin to tell raucous tales about the Wicked Witch with the Captain of the Guard, she decides that she has had enough. She is no longer needed to lift anyone's spirits - for once, they are too high even for her. So Glinda summons her bubble, and makes a quick, quiet exit from the party. The guests are too drunk to notice that she's gone. The guards have their hands full with rowdy citizens, they won't be able to follow her. She can be alone.  
  
For about half an hour, Glinda lets the bubble drift of its own accord, reigning it in only when it jumps too high or dips too low. Finally, it sets down on a quiet street, one she recognizes as being a few blocks from her quarters. Slowly, she begins to walk. The breeze ruffles her hair and makes her wish she brought a wrap along. As she turns the corner, she notices a child playing on a lawn, in the glow of streetlights. It is odd for a child to be out at this hour of the night, but this wasn't a usual night.  
  
As she nears the child, the child turns toward her. Glinda can't help the small smile that spreads across her face. She is a pretty little girl. The child grins up at her. "The Wicked Witch is dead, miss!" She chirps, her dolly falling to the ground, momentarily forgotten. Glinda nods, not trusting her voice to carry a response at the moment. The child continues, chattering on in the way of the very young.  
  
"My mama said I could stay up all night, to celebrate!" The child pauses for a minute, waiting for a response. When there is none, she stands up and moves closer to Glinda. "Your hair is pretty. Like my mama's. What's your name?"  
  
"Glinda." Glinda replies, softly. The child may have heard of her, but who would expect Glinda the Good to be roaming the streets alone, at this time of night?  
  
"I'm Elphie." The child says. Glinda blinks, and freezes on the spot for a moment.  
  
"What did you say?" She asks the child, her voice carrying a slight waver. The child peeks at her with serious brown eyes for a moment.  
  
"I said, I'm Chelsea." The replies, in a patient tone. "Are you all right, miss?"  
  
Glinda takes a step back from the girl, still trying to sort out what she heard. The front door opens and a woman steps out. She beckons to her child, and turns guarded eyes on Glinda, unable to recognize her in the darkness.  
  
"G'bye!" The child calls, and dashes inside. Glinda gazes at the closed door of the house for a moment, and then turns and summons her bubble. She has had enough of walking for tonight.  
  
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AN: I do not own Wicked, or Glinda. Yet. :-P  
  
Ok, so I finally got the first chapter of this one done. All it took was a horrible day at work to get me in the mood! :P I hope to have the first chapter of Elphie's fic up soon, too - I'm going to try and write them concurrently, I'm planning links between them and all sorts of good stuff. I hope you liked it! I have nancystagerat to thank for helping me out and encouraging me with this chapter. :-)  
  
Thanks for reading,  
Love,  
B 


	2. Chapter 2

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**"There's a couple of things get lost." **

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The sitting room is dim. The remains of a blaze smolder in the fireplace, but the fire, left untended, has burned down to a few, glowing coals. Across from the fire sits a plush, cozy armchair, padded in a warm, burgundy fabric. The decor of the room is elegant, but it manages to seem comfortable at the same time.

Glinda is sitting in the chair, one leg crossed gracefully over the other. A slim elbow rests on one arm of the chair, cradling her chin. She looks pale, a little drawn. Her eyes are closed. Glinda is asleep.

One of the burnt down pieces of wood in the fireplace pops as the embers eat through it. Glinda's eyesopen. Blinking a few times, she slowly straightens. It had only been a short nap, but she needed it. Dark circles rim her eyes, and though she has made an attempt to cover it with makeup, it is apparent that she has lost some sleep.

Since the death of the 'Witch', Glinda has been busy. Oz would not rule itself. She didn't really want all of the responsibility of maintaining the country, but for now, the people look to her. She is in the process of appointing a governor, though. Many citizens seem interested, but Glinda is having a hard time finding someone who is just right for the position. Perhaps Glinda 'the Good' would have to rule for the time being. It isn't all bad - she enjoys the prestige, and attention. And with a few special touches, and an excellent team of interior decorators, she has imbued the palace with her own tastes.

Glinda rises to her feet, struggling against the heavy bonds of exhaustion that seem to hold her to the chair. Busy as she may be, she always has time to herself, but she has found it harder and harder to get to sleep lately. Elusive by night, it seems to steal over her during the day instead. More than once has she found herself fighting against lowering her head during important meetings.

Now that she is upright, a dull ache starts in her temples. Glinda heaves a deep breath, and steps out into the hallway. It is empty of people, though from a few of the doors she can hear activity - Clattering from the direction of the kitchen, the low hum of conversation from one of the council rooms. Glancing at a clock mounted on the wall, she takes note of the time. It is later than she thought. Perhaps her headache will go away if she retires to her room for the night.

As she nears her chambers, a servant falls into step behind her.

"Would you like me to draw you a bath, Madam?" The girl asks.

"Not tonight, thank you." Glinda pauses in her step to face the girl as she answers, smiling. She always tries to show respect to the help. It's the Good thing to do.

Finally, she is alone in her bedroom. There is an ornately carved wooden bed with a gorgeous dark red canopy near the window covered in drapes of the same colour. On the other side of the room is a large wardrobe, and between them sits an elegant writing desk stained in a rich, cherry wood. A little ways from the desk, with a small step down to a sunken portion of the room, a few comfortable armchairs with matching footstools make a sitting room of sorts. Beyond that, a doorway leads into an adjoining bath. The doorway to the hall is beside the wardrobe.

After performing her nighttime toilette, Glinda changes into the soft blue silk nightgown laid out for her on the bed, and draws the blankets back, settling herself into a comfortable position. Despite her earlier fatigue, hours pass and still she has not found sleep. Heavily, she lifts herself out of bed and lights a candle. Holding it aloft, she softly moves across the dark room, to the wardrobe. She opens it.

The candlelight falls on two objects on a shelf about chest-height. The first object is a tall, pointed black hat. The second is a glass bottle full of a green liquid, half empty. With a light touch, Glinda removes the bottle from its resting place, and seats herself on the bed.

Pulling the cork from the neck of the bottle, she brings it to her lips, and takes a sip.

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AN: It feels good to be writing again. Especially writing for Glinda. Especially writing for Glinda turning into the Glinda in my first fic. Thanks for the reviews on Elphie's story, guys. It's nice to know people still like what comes out of my imagination. I'm never taking a break that long again. :-P

Thanks for reading.  
Love,  
B


	3. Chapter 3

AN: With this chapter, I'm upgrading the rating of the story to PG-13. It's getting darker and angstier. Certain things could be interpreted in ways that aren't really suitable for the younger folk, so this is just keeping it safe.

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**"There's a couple of things get lost." **

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After a long swallow, Glinda returns the cork to the bottle and sets it on the nightstand. Her hand trembling a bit, she leans back on the bed, and waits for the effects of the potion to set in. Her head buzzes with exhaustion. Her thoughts turn to the day she came into possession of the bottle, and quickly move from there to her green friend. Her troubled mind dwells on that one fateful day when she lost so much happiness and gained so much responsibility. How Elphaba died, by the hand of that little farm girl. Oh, Dorothy had been so apologetic, so sickeningly innocent. Once Glinda had sent the wizard off in his balloon, she had sent the girl off to her Kansas with the magical shoes. Elphaba's magic. Dorothy had Elphaba to thank for the ability to return home, but Glinda had not mentioned it to the girl. She didn't think she could stand more of the child's remorse. And she doesn't want to think about Elphaba any more... She just wants to sleep...

Finally, the turmoil in her mind eases, and a comforting warmth spreads through her body. The potion numbs her thoughts, and relaxes her body. She melts into the mattress with a sigh, sinking into a stupor. It is the only kind of rest she can get.

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The bright rays of morning sunlight invade the room through a crack in the drapes. The beam falls on Glinda's face, and the blonde woman wakes. Sitting up, she presses her hands to her eyes, trying to drive away a pounding headache. After a moment, she slips off the bed and moves toward the bathroom.

She turns on the faucet of her large, luxurious tub. She had taken great pains in furnishing her quarters, and the bathroom is no exception - the tub is spacious, molded from slate grey marble with a hint of red swirling through it, brought out by the soft red rug on the stone floor. The dull sound of the water against the bottom of the tub soothes away a bit of her headache, while the steam helps clear her head. Settling herself into the water, Glinda tries to think.

Something has to change. She can't keep going like this, running the palace by day, and drugging herself to sleep by night. It'll drive her crazy. She needs to find someone who can help her. Someone she can trust enough to help her carry some of her responsibility.

After her bath, Glinda puts on her robe and begins to dry her hair, letting it fall into natural corkscrew curls. Padding in her slippers into the main bedroom, she selects a sky blue gown that she likes to use for everyday trips around the city. She slips into a pair of stylish heels, and grabs the handbag to match. Lastly, she dons a modest silver tiara. She is sure she could get away with the pomp. After all, she is Glinda the Good. And what's a public figure without some symbol of status?

Heading out into the hallway, Glinda asks the chancellor to hold her messages. She just has to get away from the palace for a while.

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AN: Thank you Heather for your help with this chapter. She put up with all sorts of questions, like 'What do you think Glinda's bathtub would look like?'. She helped me research bathtubs so I could figure out exactly how to describe it. Maybe it's because I'm writing at 1 AM, but something about imagining Glinda's bathtub seems really funny.

Thanks for reading.  
Love,  
B


	4. Chapter 4

**"There's a couple of things get lost..."**

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Glinda slips out of the rear entrance to the palace and summons her bubble. She orders her guards to leave her alone, and then takes off inside the shining orb. She floats over the city aimlessly, thinking.

_"I want to go back."_

The thought tears at her heart. She's not thinking of the palace, that is not the place she wants to return to, but instead, she is thinking of Shiz. Dear old Shiz. When she was a student, life was so much simpler. She didn't have to worry about running the country, or being a public figure. It's ironic, what she wanted most as a young student was to be someone important, with power, but now that she has it, she longs to return to her student days.

But right now, she has an interrogation in mind.

She directs her bubble towards the darker side of town. The seedy underbelly of Oz. She sets it down in front of the city prison. It is cold, grey, and institutional. She walks up the path towards the steel doors and the guards bow. They let her in.

Her heels make stacatto clicking noises on the grimy tiled floor as she is led down a hallway, around a corner, and into the dark bowels of the prison. Finally, they stop at a cell.

The woman inside looks nowhere near as intimidating as she did back when Glinda was a student. She is dressed in an institutional grey jumpsuit, and her hair is chopped off short. The woman doesn't turn around when Glinda stops in front of her cell and bids the guards to give her some time.

"Morrible." Glinda says, her tone cold.

The woman in grey shifts, and slowly turns.

"Glinda Upland." She says, in a noncommital, flat tone.

"That's Glinda the Good." Glinda fires back, glaring at the woman who was standing so dispassionately in front of her. "Morrible, I have some questions that I need sorted out."

Morrible's eyes are slightly duller than they used to be, but there is still that shrewd glint in them. "Why should I answer them?" She asks, a half smile on her lips.

"You help me, I help you." Glinda replies. "If your help is... sufficient, perhaps I can shorten your sentence."

Morrible was being medicated to suppress her magical weather influence. It became necessary after the day she caused a rainstorm in the mess hall and drowned one of her fellow inmates. Shortly after that, someone had proposed a bill to forcefully suppress the magical powers of inmates through medical means. Glinda remembers signing off on that bill.

Morrible looks at Glinda, and Glinda can see the cogs turning in the woman's head. "I know you won't shorten my sentence." The older woman replies, "But give me a room and my powers back for one night. Let me feel some weather. I... miss it." She says.

"Agreed." Glinda answers. "I will give you one evening with your powers. But you will not be able to hurt anyone."

"Then I will help you." Morrible leans in closer. "What is it that you want to know?"

"When I told you to... use her sister..." Glinda's face twists in disgust - with Morrible? With herself? "Did you... intend to kill Nessarose?"

"You mean drop a house on her head?" Morrible answers with a cold smile, and Glinda flinches. "No, I didn't mean for that to happen, but I can't say I'm sad that it did. It brought the Witch back, didn't it?"

Rage blooms behind Glinda's eyes, and she reaches a slim hand through the bars to grab Morrible around the neck. Her hand isn't large enough to do much damage, but the older woman suddenly looks more frightened. "I told you to use a RUMOUR." Glinda says through gritted teeth. A guard steps in and orders Glinda away.

"This isn't over!" Glinda calls to Morrible as the guards lead her out of the bowels of the jail.


End file.
